


Escape

by WeBeTheMonsters



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeBeTheMonsters/pseuds/WeBeTheMonsters
Summary: After being forced to perform for five weeks, they're ready to make their escape.
Relationships: Paul Matthews & Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews/Tom Houston (past)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> This won't be a long story (maybe ten chapters at most-- I watched tgwdlm three times and decided to write this before I look up other fan theories). I don't think there will much graphic violence until later but don't know how graphic it'll be (most likely less than what happened in the musical). I'll be updating characters/tags as I go. Let me know about any major typos.
> 
> Going to try to keep updates to every Monday.

“Emma,” Paul huffs, grabbing at his side. “I think it’s almost time.”

Emma comes to a stop beside him. She pats him hard across the back when he starts to cough.

“What are you talking about? Our cue isn’t for another…” She checks her watch, “two minutes.”

“No,” he breathes in deep for a moment before grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look him in the eyes. “I mean it’s _time,_ Emma.”

Her eyes widen with realization before she casts a nervous look around and nods.

“I was wondering how many more times we’d have to do this _fucking_ musical.” She rips the apron off and throws it in a box with disgust. The sounds of the piano and a former-Charlotte singing fills the air. “I’m guessing you’ve got a plan.”

Paul nods and pulls off the tie he’s been wearing for the past five weeks. His eyes have a wild but determined look about them. He holds out his hand for Emma to grab before pulling her deeper into the torn remains of the Starlight Theater.

“Quickly.” Paul pulls Emma around the last corner into a short hallway where a barely lit exit sign hung above a nearly torn-off door. He motions for her to squeeze through it while turning to watch in case someone saw them sneak off. If they were caught this early in the plan, at least they could pretend they came back here to be intimate.

He shuffles through and takes her hand. The moon is hanging low in the sky for now, and he knows they have at least two hours before it’s high enough that they can be seen a mile away.

“Now what?” Charlotte whispers, pulling at his sleeve. They reach the edge of the Witchwood Forest where a mound of branches are.

“I managed to hide this away after Macnamara ordered me to go to town last week.” He pulls the broken branches away with a flourish before pulling a face and shaking his head. “The sooner we get away from the meteor, the sooner we’ll get back to normal.”

“I don’t know, Paul.” Emma nervously looks around. The woods come nearly all the way up to the back of the theater and she knows it would be hard to track them through the gnarled trees of Witchwood. “I feel like maybe we should have at least _tried_ to destroy the meteor, you know?” 

He raises his eyebrows and she rolls her eyes. 

“I’m just saying, the grenade didn’t work last time to destroy the meteor and now we’re leaving without even trying… I don’t fucking know, maybe _two_ grenades?” She runs a hand across her face. She desperately wants to leave Hatchetfield and this goddamn theater they’ve been making her perform at for the last five weeks behind. She really does. 

But knowing that that meteor still exists? It makes her a little angry.

“How about six blocks of C-4?” Paul smirks, pulling a bike that’s seen better days from the heap of branches. 

“Okay,” Emma starts, shaking her head. “Okay, but where’d you-- you know what? Nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

“If we get out of here in one piece, I’ll tell you all about it.” He throws a leg over the bike before motioning for her to jump on behind him.

She grabs his waist as he pushes forward and they start to make their way deeper into the forest. It’s about five minutes of careful maneuvering before Paul flips the switch on the small headlamp on the front of the bike.

“I don’t think they’ll be able to see us now.”

“So, where _exactly_ are we going? The Nantucket bridge has been burned. All the boats have been burned. You can’t swim. Are we just going to ride this bike and hope we start fucking flying?” Emma tries to wave a hand but quickly puts it back around Paul when they start to wobble. 

“My ex,” Paul huffs out, his arms and legs are already tired from the early matinee they had done today. “His dad used to be the Head of the Hatchetfield Boat Society.” 

“And?” She’s pretty sure all the boats were rounded up and burned about four weeks ago. In fact, she’d been there when Professor Hidgens had started singing as he threw the match onto the pile of wood. “I was there, Paul. All the boats are gone. They burned the wooden ones and unhitched all the ones down by the dock.”

“Yes, I know. But, back before all of--” Paul pulls on the handles when a tree almost seems to move into their way “ _this_ happened, my ex gave me a set of his house keys to go by and water the plants while he went down to Florida with his new girlfriend for a nursing conference?”

“Paul, buddy, get to the point.” Emma wishes she couldn’t see over his shoulder because he keeps barely managing to miss the trees.

“He gave me his keys and told me,” Paul heaves out a sigh of relief when they manage to reach the road that comes up from the shores of the East Lake. “He said, ‘Now, Paul. I heard from the homeless guy that you’ve been sweet on some girl? If you want to take her out on the lake, well, I’m just saying don’t forget to pack a nice dinner. Leave everything else up to me.’ and then he said something about a Harry Potter recipe he wanted me to try. I don’t know. Tom goes on and on and it’s hard for me to keep up sometimes. Which I think is why things didn’t work out between us, honestly. But, I mean--” 

“Car!” Emma cuts him off, slapping his arm. They both jump off the bike and dive into the weeds, watching as the car cruises past. 

“Tom? Not Tom Houston?” She brushes herself off as they start to climb back on the bike. 

“You know him?” Paul lets his legs rest as they start to pick up speed as the hill starts to slope. The moon has risen in the last twenty minutes. He can nearly see Tom’s lakeside house lit up by the moonlight. 

“He used to--” Emma sniffles a bit and she hopes Paul will think it’s because of the sudden wind in their faces. “He used to be married to my sister.”

“Oh,” Paul winces. “Jane. Yeah. I’m sorry, Em.”

Emma just shakes her head into Paul's shoulders. 

They make the rest of the journey in silence.


	2. Let It Out

“How long do you think this’ll take?” Emma lays on the floor of the boat, watching as Paul turns the wheel after checking the fancy switches and dials all along the dashboard. 

“Well, I have to keep it under 26 knots in order to stay quiet. The distance from Hatchetfield to Clivesdale is about 30 miles, by car, of course. But, we have to go a little farther to reach the northside of Clivesdale where we can dock. But, we also might have to walk about three miles to get to the main part of town. Then, we should be able to find a phone and call….” He trails off. 

“Everyone we knew was in Hatchetfield, Paul.” She doesn’t want to dampen the mood anymore but hey, someone’s gotta do it. 

“Yeah.” He thinks about his best friend Bill and how he misses going to his house on Thursday nights for a couple games of dominoes. He thinks about Charlotte and how she’d buy him top-shelf liquor for Christmas. He thinks about Ted and... he doesn’t really miss him that much.

They continue to travel under the moonlight, the only sounds are the low hum of the motor and the occasional groan of Emma.

“I didn’t know you got seasick, Emma. Good thing I didn’t take Tom up on his offer.”

“What offer? You mean you were planning on offering to take me on a boat?” She has her eyes covered by the crook of her arm and misses the floundering Paul does before clearing his throat.

“Well, I mean,” he’s never been good with words and he knows it's never been more obvious whenever he talks to Emma. “Before this all happened, I was working up the nerve to, well, uh--”

He glances down at her. She has a coat she found at Tom’s house wrapped around her. Her hair is still pinned up. She’s looking at him.

“‘Working up the nerve to…’?” She’s lit up by the moonlight, and Paul briefly wonders what will happen if they make it out of this mess in one piece.

“Ask you out.” He blurts it out when he realizes he’s been staring at her for longer than he should have. Hands sweaty, he clears his throat again and turns back to driving the slow-moving boat.

“Ask me out, huh?” It’s all she says but he’s too nervous to even look back down at her. He mentally kicks himself for not holding back his thoughts. He’s always been one to speak and then immediately regret what he’s said. The therapist he used to see told him it was good he was recognizing social cues. It only served to make him wonder how many times he _hasn’t_ picked up the cues. 

Emma wonders if she should point out the fact that they’ve made out _many_ times backstage of that _goddamn_ theater over the last five weeks.

He drives in silence for a while until it becomes comfortable for him again. The moonlight is bouncing off the slow waves of the lake between Hatchetfield and Clivesdale. The faint glow of Clivesdale grows as they glide closer to the shore.

“What time is it?” Emma breaks the silence, sitting up when he downshifts. Paul checks the watch MacNamera had given him, trying to read it in the moonlight proves difficult but he can just make out the hands pointing at 10:35.

“The docks should be up here somewhere.” He mutters, squinting and slowing down more.

“Just don’t crash us.” Emma says, leaning back and closing her eyes. “Actually, where did you learn to drive a _boat_ ? No offense, but you don’t seem the type to drive… _anything_.” 

He huffs out a small laugh, looking down at her for a second. She’s covering her eyes again. He wonders if he should mention his ex _again_ tonight.

“None taken. Actually, uh,” He clears his throat, rolling his neck before continuing. _In for a penny in for a pound_ , he thinks. “Tom taught me. He said I needed to know. ‘Just in case’, he said. Guess he was right.”

“That’s another thing I wanted to ask about.” Emma pulls her arm away from her face and stares up at him. “How did you and Tom end up together in the first place? I met him when Jane introduced us and he was, well, he was very much a, you know-” She puffs up her chest and flexes her arms. 

“I don’t know, a tough, outdoors, bar-fights-on-the-weekend-type guy? And, again, no offense, but you’re like, the complete opposite.” She gestures to him. “You’re like a desk-job, nine-to-five, ‘I have a routine and I _have_ to stick to it’-type guy.” 

Paul laughs out loud for the first time in over a month. He’s had this conversation with plenty of his friends over the years, but hearing Emma’s analysis of them might be the best.

“You’re not wrong about either of us.” He smiles, shifting into the lowest gear as they approach the low glow of the docks lit up by half a dozen lamp poles. “We used to live on the same street. Well, my family and his dad did. He went to Hatchetfield High during the school year so I only saw him during summer. He used to date someone during the school year, I don’t remember her name.” Paul maneuvers the boat into an empty spot. He manages to get them docked with only a few rough bumps. 

He jumps onto the dock and offers his hand to Emma. She ends up stumbling and knocks hard into Paul’s chest. His arms wrap around her and she hates how she blushes at the accidental contact. They pull apart before Paul continues.

“We used to play Pokémon out on his front porch. His dad would make us dinner, usually mac and cheese, and we’d play video games until my mom called for me to go home.” He hasn’t thought about the first time he fell in love in a long time. He knows he has a stupid smile on his face but can’t bring himself to stop. “We used to ride our bikes down to the docks and spend the day helping his dad. He ended up getting this car-- really old, but still in good shape-- the summer before our senior year, and we’d make out in the back at the old drive-in.” 

It’s almost like he’s back in that memory of their first kiss-- they’d ridden their bikes all the way to downtown Hatchetfield just to buy the dollar cones of ice cream at the Dairy Queen, the sun was setting and Paul told him he was glad Tom was his best friend. That old picnic table they had sat on that night has been long gone, but Paul still sees it every time he drives by the abandoned remains of DQ. Tom had leaned in first. 

Paul remembers leaning in and praying he wouldn’t miss, which he almost did. Tom didn’t care though. He brought a hand up to Paul’s neck and guided him into another kiss. Sweet and quick, but it felt like a lifetime. 

“Hey,” Emma nudges him. She knows that look and if it were any other time than right now when they’re standing on the docks of Clivesdale at almost 11 pm after escaping from a town absolutely _fucked_ by a musical-nightmare-inducing meteor? She might have left him standing there with that ridiculous, dumb, _cute_ smile on his face. “Romeo? We should probably start hoofing it. You said three miles, right?”

Paul shakes himself from the memory, his cheeks lighting up red. He nervously clears his throat.

“Yeah, okay, of course.” He follows her along the boards of the dock to the nearly-empty parking lot.

“That car,” Paul raises an eyebrow, confused. “It can’t be.”

“What?” Emma looks around before her eyes are drawn over to the small car sitting under one of the lamp posts near the far corner of the parking lot. 

“Ooh, good choice, Paul.”

He hesitates for a second before following as Emma makes a bee-line for the 1986 Mustang at the edge of the lot. 

“Oh, you’re beautiful.” Emma purrs, running her hand along the side before making her way to the driver’s side door. She takes a moment to look around for a heavy rock before she hesitates. She grabs the handle and pulls the door open.

“Everything’s coming up--” 

“Emma.” Paul closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He feels that pull under his skin for a brief moment. Weaker than before but still _there_. He wonders if it’ll always be there. Just under the surface. Waiting.

“Sorry,” Emma shakes her head. “Sorry, I know. I’m sorry.” 

She slides into the driver’s seat, pulling at the visor. 

“It’s an automatic so we got that going for us.” She remarks, pulling the small middle console open and reaching inside. “No keys, though.” 

Paul knocks on the passenger side window, pulling it open when Emma reaches over and flips the lock.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Paul.” Emma says before reaching over to unlock the glove box.

“Shit.” She groans, “There’s no keys but the door was unlocked? That makes _zero_ sense.”

She realizes Paul hasn’t said a word since he got in and turns to look at him. He’s staring hard at the small chain hanging from the rearview mirror. 

“What?” She finally asks, reaching out to grab the chain and unhook it. Paul reaches out and grabs her wrist to stop her. 

“I’m not dreaming, right? We’re not still back at the theater?” He says it frantically and looks at her with that same look he gave her all those weeks ago at Beanie’s. 

“No! God, no. I hope not. I swear if I wake up and I’m backstage again-” She takes a deep breath. “We’ve made it off the island. We’re about three miles from Clivesdale. We just need to get there, Paul.”

“Okay,” He closes his fists and thumps one on top of the other. He says it a few more times before shaking his head, deciding to ignore the chain and just call it a coincidence, and turning looking at Emma.

“I don’t suppose you know how to hotwire a car?”

“Paul, my sister was the smart one.” Emma reaches down and pulls the hood release. “But, the summer after high school, I spent three weeks running from the Wisconsin police for stealing half a dozen cans of baby formula. You bet your ass I know how to hotwire a car.”

She grabs the tool box from the back seat and they’re pulling out of the parking lot five minutes later.

\--

“There’s the Cottonwood Inn and Convention Center.” Paul points at the hotel down the road as they approach the outskirts of Clivesdale. Emma pulls them into the parking lot and parks them in one of the only free spots at the end of the lot. They’re nearly halfway to the lobby when a flash of light followed by a crack of thunder shakes them to the core. Running the rest of the way, they look back out at the nearly-full parking lot as rain comes thundering down.

“How about that timing.” Emma frowns. She pulls Tom’s coat around her a little tighter when the wind picks up. They head inside.

“Our only room left, sir. Complimentary breakfast starts at six and ends at ten. Enjoy your stay.” The stoned teen sniffs and hands Paul the room keys before turning back to his phone.

\--

“Room 234, room 236, and…” Paul resists the urge to skip the last few feet to their room. “Here we are.” 

Emma shoves the door open and lets out a moan at seeing the bed in the middle of the small room. She throws herself down in the middle of it, arms spread wide, and she could swear she’s never felt happier. 

Paul raises his eyebrows, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He leans against if for a few seconds, closing his eyes and suddenly feeling like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. 

“Are you going to sleep like that?” Emma has an eye open and is squinting at Paul still by the door. “I feel like I could sleep for _days_.” 

He pushes himself away from the door, kicking his shoes off before shrugging out of his jacket. He hangs it up and when he turns back around he sees Emma sitting up and struggling to untie her own shoes.

“Here, Em.” He sits down in front of her, pulling at the ties and helping her out of the dirty pair of Converse she had on.

When he stood back up, he suddenly realized there was only one bed. He turned back to the small wardrobe, looking for extra blankets but only finding a pillow tucked away on top. He looks back down at his shoes and stares for a long moment. He wonders if he should put them back on to walk back down to ask the teen for a set of blankets or maybe he can get by just sleeping on the small armchair tucked into the corner of the room next to the windows. 

“Paul,” Emma’s shrugged off the coat and is taking the pins out of her hair, putting them on the nightstand. “Are you going to get into bed?”

His mouth opens and closes and he can feel his face heating up.

“I didn’t- I don’t- Emma, I-” He fumbles with his thoughts and words, “I don’t want to make you _uncomfortable_ or anything-”

Emma cuts off his rambling by laughing. She lets her hair fall down before putting it up in a messy bun.

“We’ve made out _multiple_ times, Paul. I don’t mind sharing a bed with you.” She pats the bed before pulling back the covers and sliding under. “Also, you’re kind of the only person in the entire world that I trust.”

Paul makes eye contact with her at that statement. She pulls the covers up to her chin but refuses to look away. Like hell if she’s going to say something so heartfelt and end up having to take it back.

“Em,” He says, softly. “I would love to share a bed with you.”

\--

Paul is the first to wake up in the morning. He takes a quick shower and dresses in the same clothes as yesterday before grabbing a keycard and making his way down to the complimentary breakfast. 

There’s only a few families filling the tables when he arrives in the large room connected to the lobby. He grabs a tray and starts piling food onto two plates. He doesn’t know what Emma likes, so he grabs a little bit of everything to take back to the room. The coffee is the last thing he grabs before he glances around and finds an open table far away from the rest. There’s a Clivesdale Herald sitting on the table he chooses, and he picks it up to read the front page headline:

_PEANUTS THE SQUIRREL: FROM NUTS TO NUGGETS_

“Huh.” He frowns, checking the date. It’s from this morning. He flips back to the front page to reread the headline.

_PEANUTS THE SQUIRREL: FROM NUTS TO NUGGETS_

“Okay.” He blinks before looking up. He nods to himself before picking up the newspaper, tucking it under his arm, and grabbing the tray to carry it back to their room.

Balancing the tray and opening the room door proves more difficult than expected. He drops the newspaper on the floor near the door, opting to put the tray and his coffee down first. When he turns around, Emma is drying her hair with the towel as she comes out of the bathroom. She leans down and picks up the abandoned newspaper.

“Peanuts!” She grins before turning it around to show Paul the headline. 

“Yeah.” He reaches up to nervously adjust his tie. 

Emma tilts her head, knowing Paul well enough to know something’s up.

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s just- I mean- Peanuts is the headline. Isn’t that, I don’t know,” He pauses, running a hand through his hair. “Strange?”

“‘Strange?’ What do you mean? It’s actually kind of cute, I think.” Emma looks back at the newspaper, reading the story. “Aw, he’s wearing a little vest! Listen to this: ‘Peanuts the Squirrel has found success after discovering a new talent: sniffing out gold’! Tell me that’s _not_ a front page story.”

“Well, sure, I mean, yeah, it’s cute.” Paul agrees, “But, wouldn’t you think an giant explosion in a town that’s been isolated for over a month would warrant a _bit_ more attention than Peanuts?” 

“Oh, _shit_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do NaNoWriMo on a whim-- not sure if I'm going to put this story on hiatus for a bit or if I'll post updates every other Monday during November. Going to see how this week goes and then I'll decide. Thanks for reading :)


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